


Resolutions

by astyanax



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Mentioned Hikaru Sulu, Mentioned Michael Burnham, Mentioned Pavel Chekov, New Year's Eve, New Years, One Shot, Pre-Slash, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astyanax/pseuds/astyanax
Summary: Spock discusses New Years Resolutions with the Captain at a party on Deck 3.(Short one-shot/character study for Spock)
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	Resolutions

Despite popular belief, Spock didn’t hate going to parties. On the contrary, he had grown fond of his fellow crewmates aboard the Enterprise and enjoyed seeing them in high spirits. If anything, he found social events draining and frequently grew exhausted well before the party’s scheduled end.

This had always been the case for Spock, even as a child. When he was expected to attend state dinners with his family, Michael would often swoop in and rescue Spock from becoming overwhelmed. If she ever noticed him losing focus and growing more quiet, she would convince him to sneak out with her to the nearest abandoned room where they would make a game out of remembering their favorite chapters from _Alice in Wonderland_ while eating whatever snacks she had stashed in her pockets.

He wished he told his sister more how much he appreciated this.

Now, whenever he was expected to attend a party, he would station himself off to the side, not too far from the action but just out of the way enough that if anybody wished to speak to him, they could easily find him. He would stay for about an hour and then quietly leave without drawing any attention to his departure. 

It was New Years Eve aboard the Enterprise and the recreation room on Deck 3 had been appropriately decorated for the occasion. Glitter had somehow attached itself to every surface and a banner reading “Happy New Years!” had been replicated and strung across the ceiling. The lights in the room had been programmed to ocellate between colors and Ensign Chekhov had taken it upon himself to select the music for the evening. Most of the furniture had been cleared from the center of the room to make a space for dancing and the crew seemed to be enjoying the techno-Europop tracks Chekhov insisted on. 

The room was becoming a little too crowded for Spock’s taste, so he decided it was time to call it a night. As he made his way along the edge of the party, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Leaving already?”

Spock turned to see the captain gripping his shoulder with one hand with a glass of champagne in the other. 

“I’m afraid so, Captain,” said Spock with a slight incline of his head. “I believe I have had enough of Mr. Chekhov’s music for the remainder of the year.”

Kirk looked over to the entertainment system where Lieutenant Sulu was attempting to usurp Chekhov’s position as Chief Musical Officer. 

“Well there’s only a couple more minutes left in the year. At least stay until midnight! Then you’ll have a brand-new year of Chekhov music to look forward to.” The captain was smiling brightly but he dropped his hand from Spock’s shoulder. Spock wished for a moment he had kept it there; the temporary weight was as much a tether as his sister locking eyes with him across the Vulcan embassy’s banquet hall. Without it he found himself letting the music wash over him, his gaze drifting around the room.

“You can leave, if you want,” Kirk said, bumping his shoulder against Spock’s. “I know parties aren’t really your thing.”

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and turned towards the captain. “I do not dislike attending social gatherings,” he said.

“I know,” said Kirk, “But you had that faraway look you get when there are too many people in a room.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, “I am surprised you noticed.”

Kirk shrugged, “I just know you.” He took a sip of his champagne and grimaced, “They really need to develop a better synthehol sparkling wine.”

“I am certain that Lieutenant Commander Scott would be more than pleased to reprogram the replicators with more palatable synthehol options.”

Kirk laughed, “Yeah I bet he would. The warp core may fail with Scotty distracted but at least the synthehol scotch has just the right amount of earthiness.” He took another sip of his champagne as a small silence fell between them. They watched as Chekhov seemed to lose his argument against Sulu and the music abruptly switched to a more contemporary popular track. 

“Any New Year’s resolutions, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked.

“New Year’s resolutions are illogical, Captain. It is necessary for one to seek betterment year-round, not only at the first of the year. Such resolutions promote the idea that if one does not achieve their goal by the end of the year then they have failed.”

“But shouldn’t any form of self-betterment have some sort of quantifiable goal?”

“Negative, Captain,” said Spock, “While I am usually an advocate of empirical evidence, in this case I must concede that there are certain aspects of personal development that are unquantifiable by traditional standards.”

“For example…” Kirk prompted.

Spock looked at Kirk. His hair was slightly more unkempt than usual and a flush was creeping up his cheeks from the heat of the party and the synthehol. It was impossible not to fall in love with James Kirk.

“For example, I can say with great certainty that we are better friends now than we were last year. I do not have data to back up this statement, and yet I am confident that this claim is accurate.” 

Kirk smiled softly in a way he rarely did in his captain persona. It was a smile reserved for Spock. “Well then I guess my New Year’s resolution will be to produce some physical data on how to continue to improve our friendship.”

“I wish you luck in your scientific pursuit,” said Spock with the barest hint of a smile. 

The music cut out and Chekhov stood on a table. “It is nearly the new year!” he said, “Everyone be ready to count down from… ten! Nine! Eight!” The crew joined in the chant as the clock ticked further to midnight. Spock wondered if perhaps when that timer hit zero if he would be able to be brave, just for a moment. He let his hands fall loosely by his side.

“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The crew cheered as a shower of confetti dropped from the ceiling. Spock felt Kirk press two fingers into the inside of his wrist.

“Happy New Year, Spock,” he said softly.

Spock leaned down and pressed a kiss to the captain’s cheek.

“Happy New Year, Jim.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! Thank you for reading my VERY FIRST fanfic EVER! You can tell the pandemic is really getting to me because after three months of social distancing at home with no job I have been driven to write fiction for the first time in like 10 years. This story has been rattling around in my head for a while. It's based on my favorite Spirk drawing by Jelff which you can see [here!](https://drfaustusmd.tumblr.com/post/189991377282/jelff-a-new-year) (the link to Jelff's tumblr doesn't work anymore so they may have deactivated but you can see the image on my blog.)
> 
> Anywho if you want to say hi I'm on tumblr [@drfaustusmd](https://drfaustusmd.tumblr.com/) or on my art blog [ @theartofamart ](https://theartofamart.tumblr.com/) !


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